


Tea, Crumpets, Deadly Stealth

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Breakfast foods, F/M, Kaiba Co-Stars as Agent 007 in this Overly Decadent Slice-of-Life Traumedy, Multi, Rescue Mission, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 06:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: Isis spends part of the term of her pregnancy as an honoured guest at the Pegasus Castle. Seto takes it upon himself to rescue her. Everyone else impedes progress in their own unique way.





	Tea, Crumpets, Deadly Stealth

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fortuity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17307932) by [EriksChampion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriksChampion/pseuds/EriksChampion). 



>   
>  This is a spinoff of [this ficlet](https://emblematik.tumblr.com/post/125992935349/) by [EriksChampion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriksChampion/), written with permission. (Thank you so much!) Although I suppose you don’t have to read it to figure out what’s going on here, I highly recommend that you read it anyhow. It’s charming and inspiring, if I do say so myself.
> 
> Thanks also to [rainstormcolors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainstormcolors/). Who enabled and encouraged, and contributed to Rishid’s presence in this fic, as well as certain comments about ‘white knights’.
> 
> Warnings for sexism, some frankly bizarre commentary on colonialism, PTSD, abortion not being treated as a moral-political issue, etc. etc.

It was not the type of fare that Isis thought of, when she considered the phrase _American breakfast_ , absent, as if was, of hotcakes and potatoes and breakfast meat. But it was still heavy and rich in a way that Isis was not accustomed to.

Although this was rapidly changing. Having safely passed through the nausea that characterised her early months of pregnancy, she found herself increasingly ravenous for as much food as she dared eat. Her plate was piled high with buttery eggs and fried tomatoes and fluffy crumpets. It was alarmingly easy to think that she might make a habit of this, rather than return to the practice of coffee and a croissant on the way to work, or the thin rice porridge Seto’s maid stewed, or ful medames with Malik and Rishid. But questions of the future had become too broad and mysterious and, most of all, _insignificant_ to give much weight to. She would be happy to spend the year here, in good company.

Pegasus was leaning back in his chair on the opposite end of the banquet hall. He had finished his breakfast, and was turning the pages of a comic book – _Pogo_ , on this lazy morning.

They were quiet friends in the mornings. In the afternoons, they might walk the grounds or go boating around the island. In the evenings, they might laugh at the serials on the television, or fill the rooms with chatter. But, for now, there was only companionable silence, and Isis breathed easily.

She took another bite of her breakfast, and waited for Pegasus to flip the page of his book.

Pegasus looked up before she could speak. If she didn’t know better, she might suspect him of the continued ability to read minds.

“Would you still like me to set you up at the canvas this afternoon, my dear? We could paint the cliffs off the north side of the island, together. Although,” Pegasus chuckled with fake modesty, “I’m sure your work will put mine to shame.”

Isis smiled and laughed, and let herself bask in the innocence of his flattery.

“I can think of no better way to spend the day,” she said.

And a most peaceful day it was.

==

Seto slammed the sentry’s face against the tree trunk, vaguely aware it would result in a broken nose or chipped tooth. He pressed the gun against the small of the man’s back. He didn’t bother to aim for the liver or kidneys. He didn’t need to put this man’s life in danger. He only needed to make him _think_ his life was in danger.

“Please! I’ll tell you anything you want!” the sentry cried.

Thirty seconds later, Seto had him gagged and bound and tossed in the bushes. He didn’t need any information from this idiot. He tapped his headset impatiently, though. There was somebody _else_ he was waiting for information from.

“Ten thirty-four hours,” Seto barked into his mic. “And now I don’t know how long it’ll be before they notice this guard’s absence. I’m going in without your backup, if you don’t get your sorry self together in the next ten minutes!” Seto snarled. “And it’d serve you right if your _dear sister_ doesn’t make it out alright.”

Seto could hear the breathing on the other end of the line, but there was no response.

“Well?!” Seto hissed impatiently. “Are you pulling up the video footage and interior schematics, or not?!”

“…Just a moment, Mr Kaiba.”

Seto groaned in frustration.

The elder brother was too used to being reprimanded to be properly intimidated by anything Seto said. And, worse, he was in the bad habit of ignoring Seto whenever it suited him. It was _infuriating_.

And he was nothing compared to the younger brother.

“Of course she’ll make it out alright,” Malik groaned in the background. “She’s _fine_. She’s being pampered. Waited on hand and foot. Anyway that she’s _not_ okay, is the result of the condition _that guy_ put her in.” The voice was poisonous and insufferably smug. “Let Isis have her vacation.”

“…” Rishid said nothing. Although it would be foolish to take his silence for agreement, it was still no help.

Seto rubbed at his temples and tried not to fume.

Malik had probably not moved from where he was sprawled out on the couch in the Kaiba Corp submarine. He had refused to be of any help at all, had lay there the whole time playing _Kirby’s Dreamland_ on an outdated Game Boy Color, as Rishid and Seto made the best plans they could to infiltrate Pegasus’s castle and retrieve Isis. But he had also refused to be left behind, and Rishid for some reason vouched for him to come along to make snarky comments from the peanut gallery, and Seto was outvoted.

It had been a mistake to give them an allowance of any votes to begin with.

The only reason he had allowed them along on this mission, was because Rishid had been the one to bring him news of Isis’s whereabouts. But Rishid was proving worse than useless, even with something as simple as running intel. Seto shouldn’t have brought him along.

Seto stood and pressed his back against the trunk of a tree. He glared down at the terrified sentry he had immobilised. And then glared at the entrance to underground of the Pegasus Castle, where Saruwatari, the traitor, had once shown him the way inside.

 _He was not still angry about Saruwatari’s betrayal. He was_ not _! Betrayal was expected. Seto had expected it all along. Had seen it coming._

 _And Isis’s betrayal_?

It wasn’t the time for this now. It was unlikely the Castle entryways and its security functions would operate the same as they had last time Seto had dropped by for a visit, following Industrial Illusion’s takeover of his company.

He waited another moment, thankful for the cover that the forest provided.

Pegasus was a fool for letting it grow so near the premises of his Castle. When so many unknowns could be hiding in the foliage.

_“Oh, yes, Kaiba-boy! Caterpillars and mice and the occasional island fox. How very terrifying! Oh, and you, I suppose, Kaiba-boy. I’m sure you think yourself very terrifying, hiding in these woods. You don’t realise you’re just the same as the rest of the prey animals. Small and scared and toeing the edges of something much larger than you can even imagine.”_

Seto shuddered.

_Screw this. He wasn’t waiting around and letting his own mind consume him any longer._

Rishid was quiet on the other end of the line.

“I’m going on ahead.” Seto arranged his gun at his belt, next to a stun gun, a grappling hook, a wire cutter, a-

“But… Mr Kaiba,” Rishid protested softly. “I haven’t pulled up the cameras yet. I- I think the flying bugs are almost in position… You said ten minutes.”

“I don’t care, anymore,” Seto protested. He pulled at his coat and clutched his briefcase to his side. He tapped the headset for the Duel Disk interphase next to his eye. He had modified it for today. He might not have real time surveillance for the halls of Pegasus’s castle, but he’d gotten a hold of a former I2 employee and several of Pegasus’s guests, and put together a schematic based on their recollection of the Castle’s layout, dating no more than a year prior.

There was meant to be an entrance underneath the raised terrace with the swimming pool.

Seto scanned grassy field between the forest and that point. It was a shorter distance to traverse in the open from approximately three hundred metres south. It seemed as clear as could be reasonably expected though.

“Keep trying to set up surveillance,” he commanded through to Rishid. “I’m going in.”

==

Isis paused with the butter knife halfway through the wedge, studying the selection of exotic jams that had been put out for her. Pegasus had taken great pleasure in showing her the collection of jars that lined his pantry. Coconut and coffee jelly, jalapeño marmalade, fig jam, and lychee – it went on and on. Pegasus found the raspberry and blueberry ones dull, although he still happily relayed the details of from where they had been imported.

Isis still hadn’t decided on a flavour when she had finished buttering her crumpet, although she had narrowed it down to gooseberry or grape. She let herself be distracted by her tea – a milky swirl of black in white porcelain.

Pegasus had left the tin on the table for her to appreciate. Ceylon tea, with a clearly British-inspired coat of arms embossed on the container. As if Pegasus thought the reminder of European colonialism would somehow be a comfort.

Maybe it was? The turbulence surrounding the nineteenth and twentieth centuries had not touched Isis in her family’s tomb. She had great uncles that had relayed the scattered bits they had heard about the Suez Canal Crisis. They described it as having happened a world away. The Tombkeepers untouched by more than whispers of the modern world. It extended before that, to Byzantium, Arabic and Ottoman Conquests, French and British Occupation. Dynastic Rule and Slaughter and the Pharaoh, whose name Isis had only recently learned.

And that was only Egypt. Tea was still being harvested and put in tin jars on a plantation floating on the Indian Ocean.

The tea was warm and strong, and sweet from the milk poured into it.

Isis lifted the tin from the table, and turned it in her hand. She listened to the sound of the leaves rattling against the edge of the container.

And now, in this last year in Egypt, there was the military coup, and Mubarak’s resignation. It was continuing, much as it was before, except now it was something Isis could be a part of, even if by a refusal to be involved. Her actions, and her inactions, were her decision.

And so the offending tea was a comfort, after all. And Isis wondered what decisions her unborn child would make. Here, in Pegasus’s dining hall, there was nothing to dictate them except the fullest extent of how things had once been, cut away from the present time like string from a kite.

==

Seto flipped the display on his headset, so that it could pick up light from outside the visible spectrum. Infrared first. Then ultraviolet.

There were a couple guards stationed around the corner, he could see their heat, but first there was a set of laser traps – within the next two metres.

Seto put more bend into his legs as he loped forward.

It was a precise bit of footwork, jumping over and around the crisscrossing web of light. His footsteps had to be soft, even when he ran up along the side of the wall, and flung himself down past the next barrage of lasers.

He grunted, at the impact, as his side made impact with the floor. He tried to roll into it – minimum resistance – hold back his breath.

“Are you okay, Mr Kaiba?” Rishid said through the headset.

Seto hissed quietly back. _This wasn’t the time to be asking questions._

“What was that?” one of the men from around the corner quarried.

Luckily Seto was close enough that he could pull himself to his feet and round the corner before they realised what was upon them.

He kneed one in the stomach, and didn’t stop before taking a swing at the other one.

The guard stepped back, but that was all part of it. Seto reached for the stun gun at his belt, and then that was that.

“Mr Kaiba?” Rishid quarried, for what must have been the fourth time since he had first interrupted.

“You do not _speak_ without thinking!” Seto hissed.

Seto caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a good thing he managed to dodge, before this newcomer had the chance to catch him by the shoulder and slam him to the wall.

Seto ducked down, and slammed the sparking taser into the man’s ankle.

“I was preoccupied!” Seto snarled through the headset. He breathed hard, as he fell back from where he was crouched, into a sitting position on the stone floor.

“Mr Kaiba…”

“You know, you shouldn’t let that guy get away with talking to you like that, Rishid.” Malik’s voice chastised in the background.

Seto felt his face flush an angry red. He curled in on himself, in his seat, amongst the collapsed guards on the floor. He ignored Malik’s voice, and the familiarity of its arrogant contempt.

“Do you have any information about where the rest of the guards are stationed?” he demanded.

“I’m still having difficulty with-” Rishid said.

“Do you have any further information about the internal schematic of the building?”

“Difficulty with the equipment, Mr Kaiba… if-”

Seto sighed. He tried one last time.

“Do you have any visuals from the spybots?” Seto asked.

“Mr Kaiba, please, if you would only explain. About this program-”

Seto stood. He pulled the earpiece and microphone off his headset and threw it to the ground. He smashed it under the heel of his boot.

He stripped the guards, and threw them, groaning, into a pile inside a cell. He clasped the lock.

 _Her brothers,_ he fumed. _Not worth even a millisecond of the time he had wasted on them. Her brothers were such_ idiots _. How could she even be related to such incompetent, irreverent oafs? When she herself was so clever, and competent, and beautiful, and-_

Seto continued along the aisles of Pegasus’s basement. Pegasus’s dungeons. He slunk through them quietly, alert to everything around him. And more alert to what was not.

…

 _I’ll take care of it_ , Isis had said.

And now that Isis was seven months pregnant, Seto was finally starting to understand they had very _different_ ideas about what ‘taking care of it’ meant.

Seto hadn’t really cottoned on to the fact that anything unusual was going on, until they had made it three-quarters of the way through their bimonthly ‘business’ dinner.

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” Isis hadn’t looked at him while she said it. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the dessert menu.

“Ah,” he had replied dumbly. Seto found himself at an embarrassing loss for words.

Isis had decided on the pecan cheese tart by the time the waiter had come back around.

“We used protection,” Seto said, ignoring the first couple of times they had gone without, in the frustration of him having ripped the condom on its way out of the packaging.

But that was a while ago. It didn’t make sense for Isis to be pregnant _now_.

“It is…” Isis sighed to herself, “… apparently very common that people use condoms incorrectly.”

Seto frowned at the unspoken implication he had done anything less than perfectly. Although it wasn’t too hard to believe that the videos he glanced at online had led him astray.

They had both been embarrassingly inexperienced. It wasn’t usually something either of them acknowledged though. That Isis would address this, even as indirectly as she had, was a break in form.

Seto fidgeted. The waiter brought Isis her dessert. She ate it with an expressive joy.

“I’m not really-”

-ready-

“- _suited_ to be a father,” Seto decided.

He felt more like a child sitting in that seat at the restaurant than he did when he was eight years old, promising himself he would be Mokuba’s mother and father and brother in place of all the people that were missing.

Isis scraped her plate with her dessert fork.

“I understand,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

The night had continued at its normal pace. Only interrupted, briefly, when Isis paused in bed to blink heavily at Seto’s continued fumbled attempts with prophylactics.

“It hardly matters at the moment,” she chastised.

Seto had felt pretty ashamed right then, but he resolved to find more reliable information on the unfortunate subject of safe sex practices. And things had continued from there on without a hitch.

Isis had pre-emptively cancelled their following bimonthly ‘business’ dinner, but Seto supposed it was normal to want some distance. He was certainly in need of distance himself, from time to time.

And Isis had assured him she would _take care of it_. And Isis was a woman of her word. And if Seto expected anything more to come of the subject, he figured she’d either call him to ask him to accompany her to the doctor’s, or otherwise send him a bill for the terminative procedure. But she surprised him rather favourably by doing neither. Isis was a woman of most impeccable manners and disposition. It was only right and logical that she take care of womanly matters of her body by herself.

It was _NOT_ right and logical that she should reappear, after four months of static silence, still pregnant and residing with Pegasus for the indeterminate future.

A couple more guards attacked him as he made his way through the corridors, the labyrinth of cells. He disarmed and disabled them, with a couple forceful tases from his stun gun. Another guard fled in the background though, before Seto could render him immobile and destroy his communication devices.

Seto had been distracted.

The cells that lined the blocks of Pegasus’s barbarous, primeval dungeon were cold and haunting and hollow. Perhaps he should have thought of all the people that would have died chained in these cells, when it had been a penitentiary and sanatorium, before Pegasus had it remodelled into a living space. _Prisoners_. _Pariahs. Outcasts._

But Seto could think of naught more than himself and Mokuba.

Mokuba’s eyes had been wide and dead. His breathing faint and listless. He’d crumpled in on himself. The stripes on his shirt had collapsed on top of each other in pixelated mayhem of orange and white.

Seto had woken up in a cell, after what he later learned had been Yuugi’s _(Yuugi and Atem’s)_ defeat of Pegasus. His heart was shattered, and visions swam before his eyes in patterns of dark velvet. Saruwatari unlocked his cell, and Seto didn’t care. He wouldn’t have moved, if the voice hadn’t called to him. If the face hadn’t beckoned, he would have rotted and died with his soul in pieces.

Seto couldn’t tell the cells apart. He couldn’t remember which one he had been locked in, which one Mokuba had been locked in. Each cell was different, with uneven stones lining their walls. And yet every cell looked alike. Every single one was alive with hallucination and punishment. Every single one beckoned him with the thought that he should have laid in them until his carcass sunk into the ground. Every single one was filled with the soft sound of Pegasus’s mocking laughter.

Seto huffed and kept walking. It didn’t matter if Isis had betrayed him. It didn’t matter if she didn’t want him anymore. It didn’t matter if Seto did or didn’t want _her_ anymore. And it didn’t matter if he did or didn’t want a child either. Because it seemed he’d be getting one.

And it would be over his _cold, dead body_ that he allowed any child of his to be raised in this place – in this place with this man that had playfully seen him brought to the depths of his insanity.

==

“Master Pegasus, sir?”

Pegasus paused, right in the middle of _Pogo’s Sunday Punch_.

“Oh, what is it, dear Croquet?” Pegasus sighed. “You do realise you have interrupted me right in the middle of Bun Rab’s antics?”

_Frozen Cole Slaw. For canals the wide world over, And for those that run on Mars, ‘Tis the year to steer by stars._

Croquet coughed. He spoke in a hushed undertone. “Sir, there is an intruder in the castle…” he coughed.

“Oh, delightful,” Pegasus clapped.

“Is everything okay?” Isis called across the table.

Pegasus turned to her. She seemed to be taste testing different types of jam. A spoon hovered over a crumpet, and dropped only a small drizzle of grape jelly over the edge – only enough for a bite.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing, Isis dear!” Pegasus reassured. “Please. Please!” he waved her off.

Isis smiled, and returned to her crumpets.

When Pegasus turned back to Croquet, he was being levelled with a pointed look. Pegasus could feel it, even with Croquet’s eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Pegasus chastised. “Oh, Isis!” he called back across the table.

Isis looked up and refocused her eyes on him, her mouth poised over her crumpet.

“I just have something I must discuss privately with Croquet. Castle upkeep and business and all. I would tell you not to rush, seeing as it might take a bit longer than originally planned to go out painting, but you seem in no hurry as it is~”

Isis giggled self-consciously. She seemed so bright and happy – and her grey-blue eyes shown with such vivid colour against the whites of her eyes and the smooth darkness of her skin – it lifted Pegasus’s sprits.

“I will be back shortly, my darling,” Pegasus assured. He left his book – face down, spine open – on the table, as Croquet led him from the room.

Croquet showed him a collection of video snippets from the surveillance, explained the reports of a few cowardly guards that had run. Pegasus laughed when he heard the news.

“He’s proceeding rapidly up the floors of the castle,” Croquet explained. “Disarming traps, violently engaging the guards, breaking antiques.”

“How very amusing!” Pegasus cheered. “He’ll be wanting to find Miss Ishtar, then?”

“Presumably,” Croquet agreed unsurely.

Pegasus laughed. “He’s here to play the knight on the white steed? How droll! It doesn’t suit Kaiba-boy at all.” Pegasus shook his head. “White dragons not withstanding~”

Croquet seemed to shift uncomfortably. “What should we do, Mr Pegasus?”

“Well, Kaiba-boy’s working so hard, we had better play along. Do our best to be his villains,” Pegasus decided. “Perhaps we can come up with some way to help him along? Reveal the position of Miss Ishtar and myself to him? Lead him to us?”

Croquet seemed unsure, but his reticence died as they fleshed out the directives. Repositioned guards. Arranged to have walls moved. Created a pathway through the castle for Seto to follow.

“Do try and make sure no one is hurt too badly,” Pegasus added at the end.

“Yes, Mr Pegasus,” Croquet sighed.

Pegasus pulled at the embroidered collar at his neck.

“I’d better get back to dear Isis,” he decided. “I will want to be in the room when Kaiba-boy arrives.” He fluffed his hair, and waved Croquet off.

 _He would help the best he could in his own way._ Pegasus smiled to himself. _He owed Kaiba a favour, after all._

It was only a couple dozen paces back to the banquet hall. Pegasus walked them quickly, without paying attention. If he paid attention, to the door and its distance, he could see that his depth perception wasn’t what it once was.

==

It was a long trek up the castle. Slowly the cold, stony horror of the dungeons turned into warm halls – bronze and white corridors with red carpets and white lights.

The change in scenery couldn’t fool him, though. It was all the same, no matter how well it was dressed up.

_His own mansion was the same way._

He fell into a pattern climbing the floors of the premise. The guards would beset him on uneven intervals. Seto felt himself lucky, when he’d found time to switch out the battery on his stun gun, when he found time to catch his breath between darting down hallways and up stairs.

In the end, it all ended up furthering his own gains. He was leaving the guards behind, piled and broken, as he drove further up the castle – _fools_. He wasn’t sure if Pegasus knew he was coming, but he did know that he was more than a match for anything Pegasus had thrown at him so far.

 _He had something on his side, after all_ – he clutched at his heart.

It took several interrogations, and some eavesdropping to learn that Pegasus had Isis in the banquet hall at this time of day. He matched it with the schematics he had uploaded to his headset. It seemed like a shoe-in, although it was unwise to let your guard down until you were sure you had reached your goal.

But, temporarily, things had gone off-plan.  He’d overshot the floor he needed to be on, unable to get through. And the guards had driven him onto the castle roof.

“We have you surrounded,” one said. But there were only a couple of them, and they didn’t have guns, so it was a laugh. Seto had them rolling on the ground in shock, soon after.

He could, of course, attempt to descend back through the castle itself, but he’d been driven to the parapet at the very top. He checked the internal schematics of Pegasus’s castle again.

He was right over the top of the banquet hall. It was two floors down. He looked down, ignoring the deep and fatal drop to the forest below.

_There was a balcony and a French door. It looked old. Antiquated. The glass should be brittle._

Seto took the grappling hook at his belt. He arranged it hooked around the strongest area of the parapet. He had enough rope to drop him down the right distance.

He tested the rope. He tested the hook’s grip. He did some quick calculations. It should be more than enough to hold seventy-six kilos, and any associated applications of force.

He swung himself up, lowering himself down via the rope on the other side of the castle wall. He walked along the side of the building, offsetting his weight with his grip on the rope and the grappling hook, until he was on the wall about four meters above the French doors.

He measured out a length of rope, enough to drop him down far enough to clear the door, he held it taut. He checked the soles of his shoes. The heels were a hard rubber. His toes were protected.

He jumped, getting a feel for the bouncing force that pushed him up and off the wall, and then swung him back into it. After three jumps, he was accustomed to the feel of the stone hitting his feet.

And then, in the middle of the fourth jump he let the length of rope he had measured go.

He swung, in a perfect arc, down to the height of the balcony, and burst through the glass panes on the door, and shards of sharpened light flew everywhere, as he entered the banquet hall feet-first.

==

“I can’t _believe_ you!” Isis hissed.

Seto was sitting seiza on a clean patch of floor. His hands were balled into fists, pressed against his knees, and frowned sulkily and refused to meet her eyes.

“I can’t _believe_ you would do this to me!” Isis repeated.

She gripped the short handled broom tightly in her hand, and waved off one of Pegasus’s worried servants. She spread her legs and bent down, the best she could, over the bulge of her stomach, to sweep shards of glass into a dustpan.

“Ma’am Isis, you shouldn’t have to-” the servant pleaded.

“I quite think I _should_ ,” Isis insisted. “We’ve caused you enough trouble for today.”

She glared at Seto, to make sure he didn’t get any wise ideas about her referring to them as a ‘we’, but he didn’t look up at her. Still angry and sulking from having suffered the brunt of her tirade.

The servant petitioned to Pegasus next, but he only shrugged and waved the servant off. Pegasus sat tall in his chair on the other side of the table, with his legs crossed, his chin jutted up high, and a serene smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying their humility.

“After everything Mr Crawford has done for me,” Isis said. “He has been nothing but kind and generous and giving. He has looked after me, where you have been uninclined. And then you come and embarrass me like this!”

Seto’s face pursed angrily, but he said nothing. It had been a new record for them, how quickly Seto had moved from the angry yelling stage of the argument, to stubborn and immovable silence. Which suited Isis just as well for now. She was not in the mood to listen to his whining.

Isis emptied the dustpan into a bin that had been set on the table for her. She bent over once more, and struggled again to fill it amidst the awkward form of her pregnancy.

“You have caused harm to Mr Crawford’s guards. You have damaged Mr Crawford’s security measures and premises. You have- You have-” Isis simply felt at a loss for words. “You have gotten shards of glass _all through Mr Crawford’s exotic jam collection_!” Isis shouted angrily. “And you have _ruined_ the crumpets and eggs and fried tomatoes! And the tea canister, two chairs, and the chandelier! And breakfast and _the whole day_!”

She felt so angry that, as soon as she was standing safely on her feet and emptied the dustpan, she slammed the brush against the hard wooden surface of the banquet table.

The table wobbled unsteadily. It was only good sense that had Isis catch the bin, before the table collapsed out from under it, toppling the remains of the chandelier off to the side.

“And the table too!” Isis gasped. She gripped the bin protectively against her chest.

Mirth danced in Pegasus’s eyes, which was difficult enough, if Seto hadn’t finally caught her eyes in that moment too. He also looked highly amused at her folly, and snickered under his breath.

“And what would you have done,” Isis said poisonously, “if you had thrown shards of glass through my stomach as well? Would you have killed our child, trying to abduct me? Would you have killed _me_ , if your attempt had not worked?”

Seto looked hurt, and guilty, and angry, none of which was what Isis had wanted.

She had been badly startled, when the glass burst in on them. She had turned her face and curled in on herself, shielding herself with her back. The ridge of her spinal cord. She had been afraid. She had been _very_ afraid.

And yet she had no idea how to communicate this feeling to him.

“How _dare_ you,” Seto hissed, apparently stunned out of his silence. “I would _never_ -”

The words seemed to garble in his throat.

It was at that moment, that Pegasus deemed it appropriate to step in.

“I believe Kaiba is trying to say he never intended to put you or your child in danger, my dear.”

Shards of glass crunched under his shoes, as Pegasus walked up to stand next to Seto.

“Isn’t that right, Kaiba-boy?”

Seto looked like he was about to disagree, simply because Pegasus had said so. Isis took it as a good sign that Seto cared enough to restrain himself.

Isis’s lip wobbled.

“Pegasus,” she began, “I am _so_ sorry-”

“Oh, oh, you’ll embarrass me~” Pegasus waved the apology off lightly. “There’s no need to be contrite, my dear Isis. What would a couple of love birds be, without their dramas and their spats? It’s simply a delight!”

Isis was not sure she agreed, but she was not in the mood to disagree either.

Seto, for his part, was still sitting seiza next to where Pegasus was standing. His teeth where gritted. He was glaring at Pegasus’s kneecaps, as if he were only a few seconds away from attempting to chew them off, like an angry Rottweiler.

“In any case, don’t go around saying the whole day is ruined, dear Isis. We have a date to go paint the cliffs this afternoon, after all.”

Isis didn’t feel much like painting at the moment. But, upon reflection, it seemed that it might be good to at least attempt it, so as to take her mind off things.

Tears had started collecting on the bottom brim of her eyes. _The pregnancy had made her emotional_ , she noted dryly. She balanced the dustbin against her hip temporarily, and wiped the tears away with the palm of her right hand, in a way she hoped was unobtrusive.

“Thank you.” Isis’s lips curled into a small frown. “I believe that will be just the thing to brighten my mood.”

Seto scowled, but it was quickly eclipsed in Isis’s vision as Pegasus approached her. He reached out to accept the dustbin from her. Isis’s knuckles were white, where she clutched the bin possessively to her chest. And Pegasus spent a moment massaging the joints in her hands, relaxing her grip until he could pry the bin away.

“You shouldn’t worry about cleaning up this mess, Isis,” he said to her in a low voice. “I don’t hold you accountable at all, my dear.” Pegasus smiled. “And it would make me most happy, as your host, if you’d leave the worrying about such banal tasks to me and my staff, and focus on your own relaxation and comfort.”

Isis closed her eyes to hide her shame. She felt her cheeks tinge red.

“Very well,” she agreed. Properly chastised.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Pegasus had moved off to the side, so she had a full view of Seto’s red and hurt face. Pegasus’s head slanted diagonally, keeping both of them in his sights.

“Oh, but won’t you forgive our dear Kaiba-boy here?” Pegasus pleaded.

Isis’s lips pursed in distaste. She might have agreed to relinquish the bin in deference to Pegasus’s position as her host, but this was perhaps asking too much.

“Oh, how can he be blamed for being concerned about his sweetheart?” Pegasus sighed happily. “It’s only natural that he would be worried – driven to hysterics – by his lover and his unborn child being kept in unknown surroundings, with no assurance of their good health. And by a strange man, no less!” Pegasus shook, as if scandalised by the very idea.

But then, just as quickly, Pegasus turned to Seto, with all the affected shock gone from his face. He smiled smugly.

“But I believe we’re hardly strangers, Kaiba-boy~”

Seto looked furious.

“Don’t speak to me,” Seto demanded stiffly.

“With all due respect,” Isis began tactfully, “my relationship with Seto, and my willingness to forgive him anything, is hardly your business.”

Seto gave a short nod, but froze when he saw Pegasus do the same.

“Too true~” Pegasus said in a sing-song voice. “I was only thinking that dear Kaiba-boy’s mind would be put at ease if he had some reassurance of your good health. If he could see that you were happy, and were being treated with the utmost care and respect… If he were amenable to staying at the castle for a few days, he might have all sorts of chances to observe you in your natural environment, as it were.”

Isis hardly knew what to say to this. She was at once struck by Pegasus’s incredible generosity, and that he seemed to be selling this pitch to Seto by likening her to an animal in a fancy habitat enclosure at the zoo.

She glanced to Seto, almost with an affect of concern.

“You can both think about it,” Pegasus allowed, smiling magnanimously. He set the dustbin on the floor, and clasped his hands together warmly. “In the meantime, why don’t you run off and get your brushes, and select a canvas, dear Isis.”

==

“And you’ll recognise the Duel Arena. Although I don’t suppose you’ve seen it from the balcony before. We have a full video record of all the duels conducted here though, if you are interested, Kaiba, sir… And you’ll recognise the ivory on the handrails…”

The man droned on, and Seto barely heard him. Pegasus had scattered along with Isis, after the conversation in the banquet hall. Isis had left, and Seto propped himself up on one knee – he wouldn’t hold a position of penance for anyone else – but he paused as Pegasus walked behind him to the door.

_Vigilant. Alert. Ready to strike. Ready to defend._

Pegasus had paused at the door. _“Oh, Kaiba-boy, I didn’t realise my floor was so comfortable~ Just_ wait _until you’re introduced to some of my chairs!”_ He chuckled to himself as he exited the room.

And then Pegasus’s butler had showed up to give Seto a tour of the castle, so he’d be able to find his way around ‘should he choose to stay’. The butler’s tour was carefully contained. No dungeons. No mazes. No parapets. And none of the places Seto had disrupted on his way inside.

There was no insinuation that Seto would have to pay reparations for the destruction he had caused on the way into the castle. And nobody had demanded the weapons he was carrying at his belt.

_It was a power play if Seto had ever seen one._

“And the drawing room is through here,” the butler opened the door, “with a picture of the Miss Cecelia above the mantle…”

“Hey, Croquet,” Seto interrupted with a short bark of laughter. “Do you remember when I tied you up and threatened to snap your neck with this briefcase?” He lifted his briefcase up, and fondly patted its steel plated side.

The butler glanced at the briefcase, and then at Seto’s face. Any emotion in his eyes was concealed by his dark glasses.

“I remember perfectly, Kaiba, sir,” he said in a neutral voice. He paused only a second longer before resuming the tour. “Mr Pegasus is very fond of pulling dinnertime pranks. Some of the most famous ones throughout the years have been…”

Seto scowled to himself. He let the briefcase swing to his side.

He drowned out everything that the butler said. He focussed on his breathing.

The butler was showing him the line of guest rooms in the hall, and which room was to be Seto’s, when somebody’s flats tapped up the hall.

Isis was carrying an artist’s toolkit. She had pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

Seto averted his eyes.

She was explaining something to the butler.

“Yes, please… I only need a word in private… Thank you, Croquet.”

The butler bowed to her, and Isis seemed unsure of how to respond.

She also seemed unsure of what to do, once they were alone in the hall.

“Seto… Seto!” she said somewhere between soft and firm. “Why are you doing this?! You shouldn’t stay here!”

Seto snorted. He could say the same about her.

“Seto, I was trying to make things easy for you,” Isis pleaded. “I don’t think you should have to be a father, if you don’t want to. You’re still so young.”

“I’m twenty-five,” Seto snipped.

He felt Isis’s condescension, even if he didn’t want to look at her. He turned and looked at the bulge in Isis’s stomach.

“And you’re three years older and grew up in a cave,” Seto snarled. “Don’t act as if you have a world of maturity and experience on me.”

“ _I can’t believe you!_ ” The art box rattled against Isis’s side. Her pregnant form wobbled. “I could respect you not wanting to be involved, but I can _not_ respect you coming here to cause trouble for someone who’s been a dear and generous friend to me!”

_Do you even care about me at all?!_

Isis’s form shook. It took a second for Seto to realise it was with rage.

“ _I_ have _loved_ you, since you saved me at Battle City!” she spat, before storming off. Her footsteps rattled against the floor like the pounding of a war drum.

Seto could barely hear her.

He sighed.

Isis was wrong. This might not have been what he wanted. But he couldn’t kill her. He couldn’t kill his child. He could only cherish them.

_He had to get them out of here._

And if he couldn’t get them out of here by force, then he’d just have to wait around until he could convince Isis to go.

It was _check_ , but it wasn’t _mate_ yet.

Seto turned to the closest door – into the guest room that had been set for him.

 _Like a frisbee?_ Pegasus had sighed dramatically at the prototype Duel Disk. _Oh, I’m really no good with physical sports? How about we play via proxy, unless…_

Mokuba’s soulless corpse had picked up the Duel Disk. He’d stared at it like he’d never seen it before.

 _No, no_.

 _Fine, Pegasus. I accept your conditions. We’ll play your way_ , Seto decided.

He flung open the doors to the guest room. It was bright and lighted inside, sunlight streaming through the gossamer curtains.

Seto couldn’t see anything inside. Seto couldn’t breathe.

This was only Day One. Seto walked inside and set his briefcase on the table and unpacked what few things he had.

==

Rishid watched his sister stalk away from Mr Kaiba. She seemed her usual self. A bit upset, but not broken in spirit at all. And her skin was a healthy sheen, her posture poised in spite of the additional weight of the baby pulling down her abdomen, and she was otherwise positively glowing. It was good to see her lively and healthy, even from the other side of a computer monitor. It warmed his heart.

“How did you do that Mast- _Malik_ , sir?” Rishid asked. He had had nothing but difficulties in trying to control the Kaiba Corp spy bugs.

Malik had taken control and planted one on the ceiling of Pegasus’s hall without any difficulty.

Malik cut the video feed coming into the monitor, and leaned back in his seat at the controls.

“That guy _only_ explained it to you half a dozen times, Rishid~” Malik snickered. But he smiled, like he found Rishid’s simplicity endearing.

Rishid wilted. “…I didn’t think you were listening. You were lying on the couch and playing your handheld game while Mr Kaiba explained.”

“You just pick up bits here and there and fill in the rest yourself,” Malik waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not that hard. Now-” Malik stretched his arms and poised his fingers over the control panel.

“Why would you not help out earlier then?”

Rishid’s face was stoic, but Malik could hear the hurt there.

“Like I’m going to help Isis’s asshole boytoy.” When Rishid did not seem soothed, Malik threw up his hands. “C’mon, Rishid! You’ve seen her now, and you see she’s well. She’ll come home to be bothered by the Tombkeeper higher-ups when she feels like it. Probably with a cute little brat at her breast.”

Rishid sniffed. “Isis does seem happy for the time being. I suppose you were right from the beginning then – there was no need to come check on her in this manner.” He finally allowed himself to smile wistfully. “It will be nice to have a niece or nephew.”

“Sure,” Malik agreed. With a certain unenthusiasm. He was exiting out of the Kaiba Corp submarine’s subterfuge mode, and restarting the propellers.

“If I may ask one more question, sir?”

“You don’t need permission to question your _brother_ , Rishid,” Malik said bitterly.

“My apologies,” Rishid allowed. “But, then, why did you insist on accompanying me and Mr Kaiba here in the first place, _brother_?”

There were a number of possible answers to this question, Malik considered.

Because he wished to be here to support his brother. Because he knew he would be an insufferable irritation for Seto Kaiba. He might even admit, to himself at least, it didn’t actually hurt to double check to make sure Isis was being properly cared for. As much as he had made fun of Rishid for being a giant worry wart, he might have been just a slight bit worried himself. There were some things you couldn’t determine from just hearing Isis’s account of events over the phone.

He focused on the most imminent and important (and least sappy) of the various reasons he had come here though.

He turned on the navigation system. The lights and the cameras lit up the blue ocean beneath the waves. The sea here was full of bright orange Garibaldis.

“Free Kaiba Corp submarine, with stealth and espionage gear!” Malik grabbed the steering wheel and adjusted their depth, before directing the vehicle out to sea and away from Seto Kaiba’s influence. “Hah! Imagine all the places we could sneak around to with this thing!” His eyes shone with a childlike delight. “Brother, imagine all the things we could see!”

 


End file.
